


til oceanic kingdom come (i'll be here)

by ricciardos



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Experimental Style, M/M, i present: an aquarium metaphor, i'm not too sure whether its experimental but definitely more poetic than what i go for, lamenting of red bull racing culture, the relationship isn't super developed but it's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricciardos/pseuds/ricciardos
Summary: He can’t scream. He can’t.If he does, the water rushes into his mouth, nose, eyes, ears and it's all over. The oxygen feels like it’s been snatched out of his lungs, but leaves a tiny amount for him to live on.Slow death. Slow death. Slow death.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	til oceanic kingdom come (i'll be here)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletred/gifts).



> @scarletred, this one's for you (thank you for leaving the kindest comments in my inbox all the time, and this is my small and probably insufficient way of returning the favour)

Pierre feels like he’s in an aquarium. 

(Not visiting an aquarium.) 

_Pierre Gasly has been lapped by his teammate for a second time this season Martin, and it’s only been four races!_

Pierre has always loved the water. Why does this feel different? Why is he suddenly lifted by the scruff of his neck, and thrown into an entirely new habitat and expected to swim just as well as the others who have lived here all their life? 

It’s another exhibit put on display for the world to scrutinise, taunt, and mock. 

He’s banging his fists, holding his breath in the tank as reporters and faceless figures slam their palms on the glass, wild eyes demanding answers. 

_Pierre is over a second behind his teammate in qualifying. Could this be the end for his time at Red Bull? Experts certainly think so._

It is cold, and dark in this tank and Pierre doesn’t know how much longer he has before the new wave of visitors start pouring in to gawk at him. 

The Red Bull suit the team has given him, equipped to help him navigate the depths of the tank feels heavy. Water has long seeped into the material, weighing him down everytime he tries to kick harder and bring himself to the surface. 

_Pierre, how do you feel about Alex Albon taking your seat?_

He can’t scream. He can’t. 

If he does, the water rushes into his mouth, nose, eyes, ears and it's all over. The oxygen feels like it’s been snatched out of his lungs, but leaves a tiny amount for him to live on. 

Slow death. Slow death. Slow death. 

His muscles give out, and he sinks. 

Slow death. Slow death. Slow death. 

_Join us tonight as we cover the meteoric rise and fall of Pierre Gasly, the driver demoted only six months after his Red Bull debut._

-

There is a knock on the door. 

Pierre opens his tired eyes just long enough to see a flash of Ferrari red. 

“Come on Pierre, let’s go home.”

-

That night, Pierre dreams of being tossed back into the tank.

By this time, he’s tired. His muscles are aching, his mind is exhausted. 

He thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let go. 

This is an aquarium.

Exhibits come and go. 

He _too_ , will come and go. 

But why does this tank feel different? 

The entire aquarium has shifted, melded itself into a giant landscape of ocean floor. There are no more glass barriers boxing Pierre from all ends, and the water is clear. 

This water breathes like oxygen. It fills his lungs and he gasps for the oxygen like a lifeline, knowing full well it may never come again. 

His new suit feels elastic. It feels tailor-made for his skin, stitched to support him against the ebb of the tide, pushing and propelling him forward as he finds the feeling in his fingertips and warmth in the muscles that previously turned to stone. 

This is no aquarium. This is no trial, where Pierre is expected to kick himself to the surface with lead weights attached to his shoulders and the burden of loss. 

Below him, his feet find footing. Pierre is so tired from trying to keep afloat that when his feet finally settle on solid ground, he wants to collapse with relief. 

Below him, steady hands keep him upright.

There is a palm on his shoulder. Brown eyes stare back into blue, and Charles squeezes Pierre’s shoulders gently. 

Gentle but convicted. That seems to be the theme of the evening exhibition. 

Above him, there is a spotlight cast on him. 

This tank -- no, this entire ocean -- is his to conquer. 

There is light. And it shines on him and reflects all across the ocean floor, bursting into a masterpiece of brilliant blue and dazzling white. 

_Pierre Gasly comes home to win at Monza, the first French winner since 1996!_

There is always, always light.

**Author's Note:**

> watch as monza20 turned me to a pierre stan through and through 
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated! come in my inbox @albon-and-gang on tumblr


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